Author: Jonah
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Passion rears its ugly head
Passion rears its ugly head for time presented, a time foretold A rose of Sharon, slowly peeks its petals to passerby Its scent not sickly sweet but calms the mind questions it “Why have you passed me by?” “Why come back to me now?” She says this without words but prompts mine own hardened mind.…
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When twelve stars hang
When twelve stars hang as spindles from the veil, and sun and moon rise as one the astronomer’s careful sight will be dismantled. So too for oil artist’s eye for color — symmetry, a tiger chasing its own striped tail, or witness to tragedy which permeated one’s own mind. Togetherness too, lost but at once…
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Reference not the stillness
Reference not the stillnessof the windOr a lack of stirring in your heartFor its beat is unrelenting, singingtirelessly in response to that which callsall MenAnd the drooping of droughted treewhich bears no fruitGrows closer now to creationfor it provides a cooling shade.But when winter comes,drooping tree provides shadeno moreSo should we reject its cold and…
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On crooked road
On crooked road and wandering path I fell — my feet cracked, worn soles My lips dry with thirst for your Word upon my lips Tears welled in my eyes, suffering But you were there too! Though road and path seemed to wave and turn, crest and crash They were laid by you It is…
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White sand
On plains of white sand the grains crackle — trampled under foot The wind unseen swirls vivid imagery on the breeze of blurry, distant dunes I make out forms though they present to me shapeless, morphing things which only sometimes seem to guide to my petition But always to my refuge and my fortress